


Choking on Stardust

by scrawlingcomet



Series: Weathered Shields [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-07 19:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12238854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrawlingcomet/pseuds/scrawlingcomet
Summary: Love is sometimes incomprehensible. It feels so heavy, so vast, and yet so light. It swells the heart with something as old as creation. Something powerful yet so natural and familiar. Love feels like choking on stardust.





	Choking on Stardust

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for beta reading this one [ Intergalactic_Octopus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Intergalactic_Octopus)

At first, it was deafening, the sound of his own blood pulsing in his ears.

 

At first, it was jolting, the feeling of his heart beating in his chest, thumping hard against his ribs.

 

At first it was all absolutely world shaking.

 

Then it became a tremble, small, but massive, unsure, but determined.

 

Now, oh, now it is clarity. It is the solid ground beneath his feet. It is warmth in his core. It is air that fills and leaves his lungs in a rush. It is a feeling thick and tight in his throat.

 

It is a feeling Gilgamesh thought he left behind. That he thought he could do without.

 

Cor pulls him down to him, presses his lips to his. Kisses him till a piece of him floats. Kisses him till he remembers something old deep and slumbering within him.

 

Gilgamesh stops the kiss, and looks down at Cor. Just barely, his pale eyes catch a sliver of light from the old pathetic lamp buzzing on the other side of the room. He thumbs down from Cor’s cheek to his jawline, feeling the rough prickling hair trying to fill in the expanse of his skin.

 

In his own way, when the gravel in his voice cuts the trained steadiness when he speaks, that warns of the danger under the surface. When blood and ichor cling to his skin, and he scrubs it away raw to make himself presentable. When his face softens, just the slightest. In his own way, Cor is sublime.

 

And, in his own way, Cor has made Gilgamesh feel deeply for him.

 

Gilgamesh kisses him, smiling so that lips don’t quite meet, don’t quite fit, don’t quite lock into place, but with this blooming feeling in his heart, it feels perfectly right.

_________

 

“You seem…happy?” Iris asks keeping her eyes trained on the road and hands firmly on the steering wheel. The headlights on the jeep pierce enough of the darkness to keep the daemons at bay.

 

“Have I never seemed happy before?” Cor asks, watching the road behind in the rearview mirror, just in case. The darkness behind them stretches on and on, with little sign of change.

 

“Well you know, any time I see you now on a supply run, you just seem a little less…” Iris scrunches up her face, and she holds the expression till he looks at her. “I mean you still kind of look grumpy, but you’re not like sad grumpy, ya know?” Iris shrugs returning her attention to the road.

 

Cor’s brow rises in confusion, but then he remembers the warmth that sometimes fills his bed, and he smiles. Maybe she was right, in some way.

 

“Wow! First you were humming and now you’re smiling? What next, Marshal?” Iris raises her eyebrows comically with her jaw slack feigning shock. Even though age has chiseled her face more like the rest of the Amicitia’s, some fat still clings to her cheeks, and her eyes, big as ever are absolutely gleeful, she’s still so young.

 

Cor laughs. Him? Humming? He’s not even sure he really knows any songs.

 

“Honestly, what’s made you so happy, Cor?” Her smile is broad and mischievous.

 

His smile is small, but it stays. “We should all seek out happiness when we need it the most, don’t you think?”

 

Iris snorts making a show of rolling her eyes.

 

She makes a thoughtful hum after the moment stretches. “You aren’t…you aren’t dating someone are you? Kind of reminds me of Glady when he, ya know, he seems a lot less burdened these days.” She smiles warm and soft, she loves her brother dearly.

 

Cor looks back at the road. In a way he is, isn’t he? It’s just a little odd to explain, isn’t it? He chuckles deep and low from his gut. Despite everything that exists in Eos, this is somehow the most bizarre, he thinks.

 

“Wait, Cor! Are you? Are you really? Who is it? Do I know them? Does Gladio know them?” Iris runs a string of questions at him, on end with hardly a breath in between. He just lets them roll off, and they make it to Hammerhead on autopilot.

 

Cor exits the vehicle without a word, taking stock of his surroundings in a heartbeat, then he swings his rucksack of supplies over his shoulder, heading over to where his car is parked. He left it with Cindy to get a tune-up a few days ago. There aren’t too many hunters here tonight, most of them probably dispatched to escort people to Lestallum. Even now people are still crawling their way out of the rubble and seeking refuge.

 

Iris sucks in a deep breath as she hops out, ready to ask him more questions, but she spies Cindy coming out of Takka’s diner and bounds over to her. As he closes his car door slipping into the driver’s seat, he’s sure he hears their excited laughter. He’ll leave them too it, they’ll never come close to guessing who.

 

“Time to head home.” He says to himself pulling out of the Hammerhead. _‘Home? Hm, when did I start calling it that?’_

_________

 

Gilgamesh stabs his foil into the ground mustering his energy to summon something different, something he can slash with. Several mindflayers have crept in with the darkness pooling down here in the cavern, and with them, a chill, freezing the water solid wherever the darkness touches. The energy around him knocks the daemons back as they try to lunge and reach for him with their slimy tentacles.

 

The sword hilt in his hand shifts from the guard of a saber to that of a greatsword, hefty and broad, calling for two hands to wield it. He pulls it out of the ground, black, and sleek, crackling with lightning. He leaps high into the air and swings as he descents down, thunder claps and a bolt of lightning strikes down all those wretched creatures and they string together in a chain of lightning. He hears their skin sizzle and pop as they shriek then they disintegrate. The putrid smell of their burnt flesh hangs in the air, briny and cloying sticking in his lungs. He lands in their ash and strikes the ground directly. Lightning skitters out the sword shattering the ice and shocking the darkness where it still tries to gain ground. Some of the darkness lurches back, he thinks for a moment it howls, in too many kinds of sounds at once.

 

Any residual lightning gathers back into the center of the sword where the lightning rod is. He can’t help but sigh even with his power it will still take some effort to clear the cavern. He admits he may have neglected this area of the Taelpar Crag, the spirits here were overwhelmed, so for now he cannot command them.

 

The darkness begins to shift in shape, up and around, swelling in different sections, swirling, preparing to spit out more daemons. At his left shoulder the air compresses and then pops as he summons his phantom arm, he better take care of this as quickly as he can.

 

At least this might offer a challenge.

_________

 

The drive is pleasant, to say the least. The fight is constant, but with all the hunters, with everyone’s efforts, it almost seems like a normal late night drive, although his car’s clock tells him it should be sunrise by now.

 

Cor parks in front of the shack where his wheels have worn out a spot and sees that the lights are on inside. ‘ _Is Gilgamesh here?’_ He’s never been here before without Cor. Just in case, dropping his rucksack beside him he thumbs under the hilt of his sword ready to draw and strike at a moments notice. He opens the door, still on guard, but relaxes seeing Gilgamesh sitting at his table, a book in hand, reading with intense interest. He is only wearing a towel where he sits, his hair clearly damp, dripping onto another towel around his shoulders. Cor can’t seem to think of a time he’s really cleaned up here before.

“Gil? I wasn’t expecting you.” Cor picks up his rucksack and enters closing the door behind him. Gilgamesh sets the book down, thumb wedged between the pages to keep his place, and he turns a little in his chair to face Cor better.

 

“I am aware, but I felt the need to see you, and speak to you.” He smiles at Cor, and Cor can’t help but smile back.

He makes his way to the counter that separates the kitchen from the rest of the room. He needs to fix something to eat, if he didn’t want to avoid Iris and Cindy’s questions he probably would’ve eaten at the diner.

 

“Do you want anything to eat?” Cor looks over at Gilgamesh, as he takes out his food, mostly dried things and some canned fish. The bottom of his bag filled with enough toiletries for one person, almost a month’s worth, but he’s good at rationing, he still has some supplies from the last run.

 

Gilgamesh hums, processing what Cor asked as he finds his place on the page. “You know I do not need to eat.”

 

Cor almost kisses his teeth. “I know you don’t need to, but you can.” He puts his rucksack down beside the counter he’ll put up the rest of the supplies later. For now he decides on instant coffee and instant porridge, it will all be quick enough he just needs to boil water. It’s a bit hard for Cor to not want and share food, they at least share a drink, he can’t help think it’s awkward when he eats and Gilgamesh doesn’t.

 

Gilgamesh only hums again, turning a page over with his thumb.

 

Cor fills the kettle with water. Thankfully the shack’s reservoir was filled recently. He might forgo a shower though, he didn’t fight anything today, so he can make do, anything to preserve some water. He sets the kettle on the stove and waits.

 

The book Gilgamesh reads is interesting, a brief on this era’s technology.

 

Cor leans with his hip against the counter and looks back and forth from the kettle to Gilgamesh a few times and finally settles on Gilgamesh again. Almost three years now, right? And sometimes he feels like he doesn’t actually look at Gil, not like this. His eyes can’t help but trace the scars along his brown skin, see how they’re etched into flesh. Even with time, so much time, some of them have not faded, a testament to how vicious some of them were. Cor has a few scars of his own, and they flare up sometimes, he wonders if any of them still ache for Gilgamesh. His eyes settle on Gilgamesh’s left shoulder and his stomach does its best to imitate the shape of the scar twisted and rough.

 

He exhales crossing his arms over his chest. Even now he can’t stop his face from burning with shame, or the feeling of being flayed open, like he’s thrown on this skin wearing it like a costume, like it’s never quite fit.

 

Damn these old feelings he’s carried for so long. He grits his teeth, but exhales, looks at the rest of the room. Gilgamesh’s armor and boots are stacked neatly near the doorway, his cape hung on the coat hanger. The rest of his clothes neatly folded over the railing of the foot of the bed.

 

“Are you cold? Do you want to wear something of mine?” Cor asks thinking he can distract his mind.

 

“Do you honestly think anything you have would fit me?” Gilgamesh asks amused, a faint laugh trailing on his breath.

 

Cor does kiss his teeth this time, just a touch frustrated, mostly with himself.

 

The kettle finally whistles and Cor takes it off and pours the hot water into to his bowl and stirs his porridge, and then two mugs, the warm roasted sent of coffee blooming in the air.

 

He places the mugs down on the table, one right in Gilgamesh’s line of sight. “At least humor me.” He says and then sets his bowl down.

 

Gilgamesh smiles at him taking the mug in hand and then stretches it out for a toast. Cor meets him and the mugs make a dense clunk when they tap together. Gilgamesh takes a polite sip, but can’t help the frown after the tastes hits him. Cor can’t blame him, it smells nicer than it tastes it’s very cheap coffee. Sour and burnt, but it’s warm and fills some of the gaps in his empty stomach. The porridge fills the rest, the warmth of it relaxing him.

 

The silence is comfortable. It almost feels normal, domestic.

 

He smiles to himself.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Gilgamesh asks.

 

Cor’s smile widens, shows his teeth, and he gather’s up his mug and bowl, Gil’s mug too, the coffee obviously not to his taste, just barely warm. Cor finishes it off anyways as he rounds the kitchen corner.

 

“Don’t you think it’s strange? Where we are? What we are?” He makes quick work of cleaning the mugs, but takes care to scrub his bowl and spoon, the oats already drying and sticking.

 

He sees Gilgamesh set down his book, just on the edge of his vision, hears him scoot the chair back to rise. As he dries his hands off he feels Gilgamesh stand near him, not too close, there’s very little space to maneuver in the kitchen. He turns to him.

 

“Do you think it strange, Cor?” Gilgamesh finally asks. Despite himself he can’t help but keep it measured, careful. He hunches, just a touch, almost scrapes the ceiling with his height, leans a little against the counter to fit himself better, right arm bracing him.

 

Cor leans back against the sink. “Well, it is.”

 

“Do you want to put an end to what it is we are doing?”

 

“No! … no. It’s jut while we were driving, Iris she…” That gives him pause again. Has he ever really mentioned Iris to Gilgamesh? Anyone really? Sure they talk, they’ve talked about Gladiolus’ trial, King Noctis, what’s happening, what they have in common, but there’s also so much that they don’t talk about. So many points where their world’s cross, but then they are also separate. Cor’s not one for words when he doesn’t need to, but whatever their relationship is becoming, that needs to be talked about. Sometimes they fight daemons together, but otherwise they don’t venture out of this shack or the ruins, not together.

 

Cor covers his mouth with a loose fist. Starts talking into it, but realizes he’s just muffling his words when Gil leans in more to him, head inclined.

 

“It just, she got me thinking…” He looks up to Gilgamesh. Without the mask his face is soft, serious, beautiful.

 

“Are you unhappy?” Gilgamesh asks him.

 

“No! Not at all, I’m very-“ Cor looks away his face burning. “-happy.” His breath shudders out.

 

“As am I.” Gilgamesh’s hand holds his chin, turns Cor’s face back to him, slowly, traces his thumb along his lips.

 

“I would like to kiss you now.”

 

A “yeah” squeezes out of Cor’s lungs, shaky and breathless, almost makes him choke. Cor tips up to kiss Gilgamesh as he leans down to do the same. The kiss makes his throat tighten and his lungs burn, but he leans into it more, kissing till they both have to gasp for air.

_________

 

Cor smells like steel and daemon blood, he always does, it’s hard to scrub the scent off when you’re tearing through it every endless night. Just underneath it however, something, distinctly Cor, warm and enticing. The taste of him sits on Gilgamesh’s tongue and he craves more, takes what he can, till Cor flips him flat on his back. Holds him steady, sinks down, slow, purposeful, all teeth at his neck till he bottoms out and Cor’s mouth softens to careless, breathless moans. Pressed just underneath Gilgamesh’s chin, Cor thinks, he smells faintly of sandalwood and iron, like the scent is ready to be whispered away and forgotten, and nothing of this time sticks to his skin. Nothing till Cor gets ahold of him, keeps him in his space, touches him all over, kisses and kisses till beard burn threatens to make his skin numb and raw.

 

He is always so, relentless, Cor. Riding Gilgamesh, even now, hard and reckless, confessing things that normally catch in his throat. The sweet things, the poetic archaic things Gilgamesh always says, seem to spur Cor in these moments. He presses his hand against Cor’s chest, running along to warm him and tease the spots that break his rhythm, but most importantly, feel the rapid heartbeat, honest and true, and somewhere, synced with his own.

 

The rhythm of hips less synced, Cor chasing his feelings, getting the better of him. A high and choked moan takes the rest out of him, but he insists on going on, his wobbly frame greedy for more. Gilgamesh shushes him onto his back, goes a slower pace that Cor urges to be faster, rougher, but he’s shuddering and loose limbed. He keeps each pump slow and tender, and Cor red faced and pliant smiles, musters sloppy “thank you’s”, keeps his arms wrapped loose around Gilgamesh’s neck, to kiss him. _“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”_

 

Gilgamesh cums with a shaky rumble, Cor stealing most of his breath. He rests his forehead down on Cor’s, whispers something more daring, lost in their mingling breath.

 

_“I love you.”_

_________

 

It itches under his skin, an itch he can’t stop scratching, but can’t alleviate.

_‘Two full weeks.’_ Gilgamesh thinks. He’s started keeping track of time more closely since Cor entered his orbit. Maybe before becoming the Blademaster when he was, fully human, he squeezed every second of time out of a day, he thinks, but he had to … he thinks. It’s been so long, but each day, each hour, minute, second, that passes is becoming agonizing.

 

Gilgamesh looks at Cor’s wide back, Lucian Black, almost lost in the darkness of the Starscourge, just barely outlined by the flashlight attached to his shirt, he’s most noticeable when he shifts his stance. They’re camping, in a way, really just clearing out daemons, and patrolling near haven spots.

 

In their downtime Gilgamesh can’t help how mortal his thoughts have become, thinking in the way he does now, he can’t remember when he last had to. Times passage, he stopped noticing, feeling it, tracking it, but since the other night, time has become a reality starkly carving out around his being.

 

Two weeks ago he said it, said how he felt to Cor, and now he isn’t sure whether Cor heard or not. Did Cor hear? Did Cor realize? Is he acting different now or is it just that he thinks he is?

 

“You’re staring.” Cor says suddenly. He turns around scrubbing his hands with a handkerchief, cleaning off most of the deep purple ichor of daemons. There are still some flecks from what he can make out in the light, but it’ll have to suffice for now. Pocketing the muddied cloth he sits facing Gilgamesh, deciding he’s done enough watching, they won’t be seeing any more daemons this hunt. He turns off his flashlight and clicks on one of their stronger lamps.

 

“There is very little else to look at. However, it is an enjoyable view.” Gilgamesh says sitting down on the dried grass and turning on the other lamp.

 

Cor laughs and feels a little flush warm his cheeks. “Okay, but what were you actually thinking about?”

 

A moment passes, Gilgamesh watches Cor’s face shift in the lamplight. By any means it’s not flattering light, robs Cor of most of his color, fuzzes his features, but he is always stunning, even as his face shifts from an open amused expression, to his neutral but surly one. Cor almost resigns himself, almost let’s the question be forgotten, but then Gilgamesh reaches up to take off his mask and then pushes his hood back. Even in this lamplight, Gil’s eyes are intense, fully red without pupils demanding attention, his silver hair and eyelashes almost glowing in the darkness.

 

“Cor.” He says calmly.

 

Cor smiles. “Gilgamesh.”

 

“What do you think of our relationship?” He asks keeping his voice even and calm.

 

“I...” Cor stops trailing off looking around searching for something to distract them, there is nothing. “Is this really the best time to talk about it?”

 

“We have the whole night to talk.” Gilgamesh says with a smile.

 

It takes a moment for Cor to get the joke but he laughs. “Fair point.”

 

Cor rubs his neck, the nervous habit showing itself. “As I said before, I’m happy. Are you happy, Gil?”

 

“Quite.”

 

“So then there’s not much else to talk about, is there?”

 

“Oh? You seemed to have more to say before. You came to the resolution that you are happy, that we are happy. But there is more to it than just being happy, is there not?”

 

Cor doesn’t mean to but he breaks skin on his neck, dragging his blunt nails a little too hard as he rubs. It stings from the air and dirt. Why is it suddenly, he hears the otherworldly rumble in Gilgamesh’s voice? Like more than one voice speaks in unison? He was so used to it, but it makes him think too much again. He’s fifty-three now, if he’s kept track well enough, and Gilgamesh is…

 

“Can we talk about this when get home?” Cor whispers, pressing his hand into where he’s scratched pressing hard like it dulls the pain.

 

The tip of Gilgamesh’s gauntlet scratches his mask. “Of course.” He was right, it really wasn’t the best time.

 

_________

 

Cor’s passenger seat is adjusted as much as possible so Gilgamesh doesn’t have to fold himself too much to fit in the car. It would be simpler to meet Cor back at the shack, but it’s nicer to have company, and helpful. The drive home is peaceful, well it was peaceful, but things rarely stay peaceful.

 

A downpour starts. It’s not normal rain, not tonight. The rain is black like daemon blood, too much smoke and ash in the clouds, and too much ooze on the ground. It’s heavy and splats the car roof. Cor can’t help but peek at the water jug in his backseat. The rain can be purified, eventually. More pressing now is how viscous and heavy the rain is. The headlights can’t penetrate enough of the darkness. It doesn’t stick to headlights, but so much rain falls he can hear it sizzle and pop burning from its holy light.

 

He slows the car. They’ll be lucky if they make it back to the shack, but luck is scarce in the apocalypse. He slows and slows till the tires can’t grip the road anymore, so he stops. He leaves the car running, they need they’ll need the light, and to drive as soon as it clears. Cor watches Gilgamesh for a moment, how the blue lights from the dashboard dance along his silvered mask, and just how his eyes sit in their frame, unblinking as he watches the road for trouble, and for a brief second Cor forgets they’re in danger.

 

Gilgamesh sees it first, then Cor does, in the rearview mirror they see the inky rain pulling itself together unsettling the darkness around it, defying gravity, shifting up and up, it curls and bubbles till its shape is roughly humanoid. Cor looks in front of them, but the headlights seem to be holding up and keeping the Starscourge at bay.

 

Gilgamesh nods at him, his eyes leaving red wispy trails of light as he starts summoning his magic. Envy spikes in Cor’s gut, he can’t help himself sometimes he desperately wishes to feel magic pulse in his veins again. Sometimes he catches himself grasping at air, old training telling him something should be there. It’d be hell of a lot more helpful too.

 

Cor turns on the flashlight on his chest and grips his sword as Gilgamesh exits with his weapon forming. Radiant light takes the shape of a greatsword, curved and sharp in his hand. Cor sees the rain burn away around the edge of its light, unable to breakthrough its brilliant holy aura. Gilgamesh will have little trouble dispatching that creature, he thinks. If not against his nature, he’d consider hanging back, and letting him do just that. For a brief second, he almost does consider it, feeling the infected rain pelt him as he steps out, stick to his skin and weigh down his hair.

 

Slapping a lantern on top of the car he unsheathes his sword and gives the writhing mass a wide berth. He must be carful, the rains concentrating on forming one big mass, but something smaller could sneak its way to him.

 

The mass screeches a horrible sound with too many mouths and too many voices as it settles on its shape. It’s not exactly solid, the slithering squelching sound of its body constantly shifting into shape breaks through the rainfall. It has too many malformed limbs sticking out of its body, even in the main two _arms_ it’s formed for itself. Everything shifts, at different paces into every place, from one end to the next. He almost pities it. The scraps of daemons coming together like this looks and sounds painful. It whales horribly, broken and gurgling.

 

Cor tries very hard not to think that at one point they were all human. He tries really damn hard seeing bits that are a lot less daemon pressing out of it, like they’re stuck, just trying to get out.

 

The daemon’s mass doesn’t move fluidly, it’s clumsy. Gilgamesh is on it in the flash of red, knocking it with his weight pushing it away from the car. Then he slashes at it, and where it cuts balloons and pops, hissing into dust. Cor catches up, he chooses just to knock it back, the arms still too near the reach of the car. He pushes with both his feet and then flips backwards off of it meeting the wet pavement with the balls of his feet. He’s knocked it back a decent way, and Gilgamesh strikes it again, keeping close to its center to avoid its wiry sharp arms.

 

It almost doesn’t matter, each blow that Gilgamesh lands, because the rain is still falling, giving it more body, patching its gaping holes. Right now it will be a game of stamina, till the rain stops, then they can kill it properly. Cor swears every single one of his joints are already aching and screaming.

 

 

They knock it back again and again, slash, and stab. Cor just barely escapes a few nicks, but Gilgamesh evades it almost effortlessly. Cor tries not to kiss his teeth as his legs start to shake from exhaustion.

 

 

“Do you want to rest?” Gilgamesh asks him, taking a chance to land next to him, feather light, the only other sound from him is the twinkling song his glowing sword seems to sing.

 

“You know I can’t.” Cor bites back, not meaning too, but he really is tired, and he must stay on guard.

 

“You cannot overwork yourself, Cor, that will only put you in further danger.”

 

“I know.” He says flatly. And they part, jumping back to avoid as the mass lunges at them twisting itself into a sharp pointed spear.

 

Cor heaves and coughs, the air sharp and burning in his lungs, itching his chest. He’s sopping wet, but the rain has stopped. Finally, finally they’ve made some headway. He reluctantly staggers back, every nerve on fire begging him to stop. He almost does, but he’s got one more hit in him, and he knows he can land it. There is no reason to run.

 

His feet take him flying, and he stabs his sword into its shoulder. Its scream makes his ears ring, and it knocks him off, Gilgamesh comes in after and widens wound slashing it almost in two. Its whole body bubbles, popping and hissing, fiercely trying to hold itself together. The smell is sour and coppery, and the bubbling slows to a weepy froth. Watching it disintegrate, Cor’s wobbly legs finally give out, and he kneels, propping himself up on his sword. It should feel good, a relief, but pain bursts from his abdomen.

 

The sound he makes brings Gilgamesh to him in an instant. The last thing he sees are Gilgamesh’s eyes, hears his voice begging him to hold on. He feels blood pouring out of him. Fades to darkness, then he feels hands, hears voices, feels like the whole world is shaking. Then more darkness, only twin red distant stars burn on the edge of his consciousness.

 

_________

 

_‘This is it.’_ He thinks. It has to be. It’s mostly as he imagined. Much later in life than he thought, but his pride, his cowardice, finally got the better of him. How sad and pitiful. He should’ve listened to Gilgamesh. Maybe if they’d taken the time to talk, oh what does it matter? There is just, darkness, and seems that’s all that waits for him. The world was born out of darkness, and it ends in darkness, he’s not surprised.

 

He ju-

 

Something cold and wet slaps him awake bolting through his spine. He gasps likes he’s breathing for the first time, and immediately regrets it feeling pain in his gut, shooting along his nerves to lock him into a curled shriveled ball.

 

“Marshal! It’s okay. You’re okay.” It’s Iris’ voice, breaking through the blood pumping in his ears.

 

He blinks, his vision taking some time to adjust. He’s… in his bed. Only one lamp is on to illuminate the room. Iris sits beside his bed, with her hands on his shoulders trying to get him lie back down. He feels something wet, soaking into his thigh he looks down and sees a rag plopped there. He grabs it and hands it to Iris. She thanks him and swishes around in a basin. Her hand comes to rest on his forehead, it’s cold, and she hums thoughtfully.

 

“Well I guess it’s okay for you to sit up. You have a slight fever, but it was worse a moment ago.” Iris sits back in her seat and lets him adjust himself, but her hands are out to steady him if he needs it.

 

It hurts like hell. All of his muscles tense, and he grits just leaning back against the frame of his bed.

 

Cor takes a deep slow breath and manages to ask. “What happened?”

 

“You got a pretty nasty hit during a fight. It’s a good thing you had someone with you. Can’t say I’ve seen him among the other hunters, but he sure has such a handsome face.” Iris muses.

 

She claps her hands. “Let’s get you something to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry. It was real hard to feed you, even when you sleep you frown.” She’s already up and turning on more lights before he can say anything.

 

Cor rests the back of his head against the cool wall, closing his eyes and listening to Iris flitter around in the kitchen. Before he knows it he smells food, something savory and warm, and his stomach grumbles, but he’s not sure if the pain is hunger or his wound.

 

“Where is he?” He asks finally, Iris bringing him a bowl of soup, well it’s actually broth, thin and watery, but there are some bits of food in it, on the side are some hardtack crackers. He munches on that first, it hurts to get his jaw working on something so stiff and chewy, but he needs to wake his stomach up first. Iris gives him some water to help him swallow it down.

 

“He comes and goes. Said his name was Gilgamesh. Didn’t say anything else about himself.” Iris fiddles with her hair taking it out of the ponytail and letting it spill over her shoulders.

 

She hums. “His name sounds familiar. Anyways he told me you both got caught up in the rain and had to fight one of those legion masses. Said it got a real sneaky blow on you during the fight.”

 

_‘I was careless.’_ Cor thinks to himself. Shame fans his face, and he looks down, stirring his soup. He brings the bowl to his lips and gulps some down. It burns all the way, too hot, and lands in his stomach both comforting and aching. Feels better than his wounded pride at least.

 

“He should be arriving by tomorrow to relieve me. He’s actually here most of the time. Not sure how he always gets here…but he clearly cares for you so...” She trails off into a smile, bright and easy.

 

Cares for him, it almost makes Cor want to laugh, bitter and angry. He feels so small all over again.

 

Iris gives him some medicine and insists he sleeps. It’s not easy to fall asleep, but it is a relief, he doesn’t have to feel like _that_. The medicine eats any memory of a dream.

 

_________

 

 

Taelpar Crag is almost pristine. The Starscourge quivers on its borders, almost as if it could be afraid. Gilgamesh slashes one last daemon, and collapses, uses his phantom arm to brace himself. He heaves and rips off his mask sucking in air greedily. His blood is boiling, it burns too hot under his skin, and nothing he’s done has quelled it. He grips the earth beneath him, hears it crack under the force of the arm holding him up. Grabbing something so solid just seems to make him angrier and he digs some out and flings whatever he’s grabbed far and long, the force of his will makes the clump crack through the air, and the sound echoes in the chasm.

 

This endless darkness almost took Cor from him. Out of his life. And the very realization pulls his heart deep beneath its inky depths. He knows Cor is fine. But seeing him, so fragile…he chokes on a sob. He dismisses the weapon and his phantom arm, and curls foreword, presses his forehead to the cold dirt.

 

It’s so much, almost too much, to feel this intensely. His eyes burn and his throat is tight and hot. When did he last feel this? It was all so long ago. He can scarcely find the part of him that remembers this. That can remember to feel every single one of the emotions he is feeling. Such a deep fear of loss, and pain, and love, and hope, and everything all trying to be felt at once.

 

_‘I did come into this world a human.’_ And it should be enough. He does know how. He breathes deeply, slowly. He loves this world, he has hope for this world, the testament clear in who he is, what he is. Spent decade after decade running into two long millennia, and generations waiting for the Chosen King. But to know, no, to have received comfort, and kindness, and compassion, and affection from Cor, to have given it to him in turn. After so long, it’s all broadened his purpose. There is more again. He is more.

 

Gilgamesh straightens himself upright, and for once, he feels the weight of his armor.

_________

 

The antibiotics Iris leaves Cor are just enough for his injury, the painkillers, not nearly enough to keep him from crumbling in on himself. The wound looks worse than it is apparently, but either way it hurts like hell. He leans hunched against his table, trying to catch his breath without opening his stitches.

 

Almost two weeks he was in bed, he’s told, and he’s so out of shape now. Must be his age, he thinks, and that almost makes him laugh. He prods the bandages around his stomach, tries to scratch the itch of it healing. He readies himself to finish his journey to the kitchen by pushing himself to stand upright, just a few more steps. The front door clicks and squeaks open by the time he flattens his hand on the counter to brace himself. He doesn’t turn, assuming Iris is back. Maybe she got worried. She did say to radio her if Gil didn’t come back soon.

 

“Cor?” Gilgamesh asks, and Cor whips around too fast. Pain jolts his whole body and he almost crumbles to the floor, but he catches himself and then Gilgamesh is bracing him and helping him into a chair. The brush of his skin against his is so comforting and he melts into Gilgamesh’s touch.

 

“I did not think you would be walking around so soon, let alone awake.” Gilgamesh leans his hip against the table, cradling Cor’s face in his hand. He’s not wearing the gauntlet, and his skin is so warm, he even relishes the callouses that scrape and poke his cheek.

 

Cor pulls himself back, reluctantly, leans against the chair to look up at Gilgamesh, he’s not wearing his mask. “You came through the door?”

 

“I did not wish to startle Iris if she was still here. She loaned me one of your spare keys.” He jingles said key in his hand and then rests it on the table. He’s wearing the rest of his armor, but it’s clear from the fabric poking out, he’s wearing something from this century. Gilgamesh sets a duffle bag down on the floor.

 

Cor inclines his head, leans a little awkwardly in his seat but it relieves the pressure on his wound. “Where did you get those clothes?”

 

Gilgamesh laughs and begins popping his armor off. “We were both in quite a state at the time. Iris showed up a few days later with some clothes and extra supplies for me. She is a very thoughtful and kind person… and very astute.” He smiles at Cor all done with his armor, his bare feet padding on the wood floor.

 

Cor would honestly be straining to hear his footsteps if he wasn’t used to how he moved. It’s so… strange to see Gilgamesh dressed so casually, black fabric from his shoulders to his ankles. It’s clearly snug, not quite big enough, his shirt fits to his form and stops just bellow his belly button, the pants are looser, but they just barely cover his shins. He sits down and everything rises up higher.

 

“Let me take a look at you.” Gilgamesh says, scooting his chair closer to Cor so he can lean over and press the back of his hand against his forehead and along his neck. His touch is gentle and it makes Cor’s eyes flutter close and sigh in contentment.

 

“Have your bandages been changed?”

 

“Just before you arrived.” He helps Gilgamesh lift up his own shirt, let’s him skim with his fingers and feel the ridges and dips of his stiches, his touch almost eases the ache.

 

Gilgamesh rises out of his seat walking into the kitchen. “Were you getting something to eat?”

 

Only now does Cor remember his stomach and it growls loud enough for them both to hear. “I’m tired of all the instant soup.”

 

He hears Gil opening cabinets and drawers. “Well let us see what we can do about that.”

_________

 

With his belly full Cor suddenly has too much energy. He insists on cleaning the kitchen, despite Gil’s protests, and then he finds things to clean and put away, shirts and socks, shoes that are turned over. Finally he settles with his sword around the table, giving it a good proper cleaning. All the movement does irritate his abdomen, but it’s repetitive, technical, calming. He’d be lying if Gilgamesh’s presence didn’t excite him in a few ways. His heart hasn’t stopped fluttering since he heard his voice, but guilt and shame, so small and angry curls and digs at the back his mind, trying to make a nest in his in skull.

 

“You should rest.” Gilgamesh says again, for the umpteenth time.

 

“Moving around helps you heal faster.” Cor defends, sheathing his sword.

 

“Moving around so much will reopen your wound.”

 

Cor looks to Gil, he’s sitting on the bed leaning back against the headboard, reading a book and clearly done putting any force behind getting Cor to rest.

 

Down by the foot of the bed, a small tower of books is stacked on the floor. The humble shelf on his bedside table already filled to the brim with other books. When did he get so many? He crouches slowly and careful near the pile. There’s no theme to what’s there, they’re all so random, and clearly have been through the worst of it with warped pages, and stained scratched up covers.

 

He stands back up slowly, thinking of something else to occupy his time. He finds his flashlight, and a pair of boots, trying and struggling to slip them on, he can’t exactly bend without pain shooting up all over his chest.

 

“What are you doing now?”

 

“I’ve got to check the water reservoir.”

 

“It was filled earlier in the week, Iris made sure of that.” Gilgamesh sighs, getting up and leaving the book on the sheets. He stands before Cor with his hand extended. “Come and lay beside me, please.” He pleas.

 

Cor looks down at his palm, trails his eyes up along his arm, but stops short of looking directly in his eyes. He drops his boots to the floor and puts his hand in Gilgamesh’s, and when he curls his fingers around his hand, that feels like an embrace. The actual embrace he’s pulled into brings tears to his eyes, and makes him bury his face in Gil’s chest, hugs him as tight as he is able. The heartbeat he presses his ear against is steady and familiar.

 

Gilgamesh’s hand caresses all along his back, slow, and tender, his arm holds him as tightly as he can. “I have missed you so.” His voice sounds like it comes up from under water, but Cor chokes on a sob, and nods vigorously.

 

He hears Gilgamesh hum. “Come to bed?”

 

He nods again.

 

_________

 

“You really should be sleeping.” Gilgamesh breathes out, finally getting his mouth free of Cor’s. He woke up suddenly insatiable, coaxed the book out of Gilgamesh’s hand, and kissed him down onto his back.

 

Cor only grunts his hands pushing up under Gilgamesh’s shirt. Pressing into muscle and dipping in between ribs, mapping it out like he’s forgotten and is desperate to memorize his body all over again.

 

“You are straining yourself. You can hardly bend.”

 

“The stiches come out in a few days.” Cor refutes and comes down to kiss him. It’s hard not to kiss him back, to get swept up into him, to revel in the taste of him, and feel his lips again. It feels like it’s been ages, and every press of the lips is urgent and desperate. Hard enough to push flesh back into teeth and make teeth clack together more than once. Cor takes everything from Gilgamesh’s lungs and carries it down along his skin, hot and shuddering along his neck, over his nipples, to his belly, till he dispenses all he can, pretending he doesn’t hiss from pain with each shift.

 

Blood pumps in Gilgamesh’s ears, pleasure makes his tongue clumsy. Cotton starts balling in his head. His skin buzzes, and he feels his fingers start to tremble as he reaches up above him to pull Cor’s mouth back down on his. This kiss is much sweeter and it makes him shiver.

 

Cor keeps his lips to Gilgamesh’s, tries to rearrange him, suddenly pulls his hips to his, but a distinct pop is heard and freezes the moment. Cor drops his head with a pained sound laced with defeat, and something about that makes Gilgamesh laugh.

 

“Popped your stitching did you?”

 

Cor can only nod.

 

_________

 

Rain patters outside. It’s normal clear rain this time, hitting the roof gently. The smell squeezes in through the small spaces of the shack, and a chill rises up through the floorboard. It all makes Cor too damned thoughtful. He leans his forehead against the glass of the window, and let’s the cold seep down into his skin.

 

With Gilgamesh in his space he just can’t help but be reminded. He presses his hand against his stomach feeling where it’s been sewn shut. His fingers rub along it, it’s not as prominent without the stiches. He never saw the gaping weeping mess it was, but the ache is still there. The muddled sickly yellow only recently faded, leaving the uneven diagonal line pink.

 

Astrals above, why can’t he shake this feeling? _‘Why do I feel like this?’_ Something ugly and desperate in him wishes the blow finished him, for good. Something else, hopeful, and free is so happy it didn’t. But despite that he just wants to shake his guilt and feeling like such a fraud.

 

The familiar sound of the air slicing, and shifting to make room for Gilgamesh as he teleports in brings Cor from his thoughts. Then he feels his presence, once it was so looming and terrifying, but now it’s the most peaceful thing he’s ever known. But that ugly thought comes back, unfurling from its slumber in the back of his mind, and begins digging and scratching at his other thoughts trying to shred its way to the forefront of his mind.

 

“Co-Are you alright?” Gilgamesh is suddenly there beside him with his hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

 

“…yeah,” He starts out weakly “,just missing those painkillers right about now.”

 

He’s not sure Gilgamesh believes him but he receives a kiss on the back of his head nonetheless.

 

“Let me just get myself sorted and I will get you something to ease the pain.” He moves away from Cor and his back feels cold, then he hears the sound of him shifting off his armor.

 

“Let me help you.” He says turning away from the window.

 

“Do not trouble yourself, I can do it just fine.”

 

“Please.” And something in the way Cor begs makes Gilgamesh pause and look at him. Cor almost wilts at his gaze, because like this, the way he feels, reminds him of the bridge and how death almost took him then too.

 

“Come then.” And he turns fully to Cor and opens himself up to him with his hand extended. It starts with the gauntlet and Cor kisses his bare palm when he pulls free, just because he can.

 

The process is meticulous and methodological. Each piece that comes off makes Cor wish he could do that with himself. Do away with the Immortal part of him, do away with the lies, and dash the shell that he occupies. It is only when Gilgamesh takes hold of his chin does he feel the flush of his face, and that tears hot and stinging are running down his face.

 

“Does it hurt that much?” He just barely hears Gilgamesh ask his mind swirling too much to really make sense of anything else. Cor pulls himself away and tries to wipe away the tears, but they keep coming, damn it.

 

“Why?” He finally croaks out backing himself against the windowsill.

 

“Why what?” Gilgamesh asks slow and bewildered. His hand is outstretched but he hasn’t taken a step closer to Cor. All his armor is off, Cor only now realizing he holds a knee guard in his hand.

 

“Why don’t you hate me?”

 

“Hate you?” He asks disbelief pitching Gilgamesh’s voice louder than he meant.

 

“I’m a failure, a sham. I am no Immortal. You hold magic in you with no king to loan it to you. There is nothing in me but a coward! Still you let me touch you, despite what I’ve done! Do you just feel sorry for me? A pitiful old man who is so close to death, who is so reckless, who will leave you behind because of everything he is not. How can you not hate me? Why do you waste your time with me! ” Cor drops the knee guard and it clatters to the floor filling the room with its uneven echo.

 

The panic is clear on Gilgamesh’s face without the mask. He drops his hand to his side and looks at his left shoulder. “I...could never hate you Cor. I hold so much respect for you.” He says quietly, looking to Cor his own eyes are glossy and shifting. Cor’s eyes look distant and cold and angry, ashamed and so hurt, shiny and puffy.

 

“How could you? How can that respect not be hollow? Just another lie about me.” Cor chokes on his breath taking in too much at once.

 

“Cor, I, please. I trust you. Do you not trust me anymore?

 

“Of course I do. I’m just, I…” Cor starts stammering each thought crashing against the front of his mind and tripping through his teeth.

 

“Since you came to me, since you became my friend, since you became a part of my life in such an intimate way I have come to treasure you so. You have changed my life for the better. I do not understand why you doubt yourself or why even seem to dislike yourself. Please Cor, in the end we are just...”

 

They really are just men aren’t they, just men prone to fault, prone to becoming overwhelmed, and prone to being eaten alive by small old petty thoughts.

 

Cor presses his hand to his stomach. “I am so …” He can’t finish the admission. “ There you stand with proof of my recklessness, with proof of the lie I live, and you tell me you trust me. How can you not be more than a simple man?”

 

“Is that all you see when you look at me? You lay with me and that is all that you can see?” Gilgamesh sounds hurt his voice catching and whistling out.

 

In the worst of times, yes, and that keeps him up and night and knots his stomach till he’s sick.

 

“ I am so unworthy of you and anything I hold to my name.”

 

He hears Gilgamesh intake sharply and watches him move. At first Cor thinks its towards him and his skin prickles ready to run, but instead, he leans back against the wall he stands in front of. Gilgamesh slides a small way down and stops like he sits on an invisible chair.

 

“Cor Leonis, ” He starts in a quiet rasp “, you are everything I cherish about this world. You remind me why I became what I am. I can remember so little about who I was before, but you help me remember who I am now. I see you try to be better than you were moment after each moment. You are the one I love now, and the one I will love into the next lifetime. And yet there you stand giving into the lies you have convinced yourself of, and dare to try to project them on to me.” It is his turn to let tears fall. Heavy swollen droplets cling to his eyelashes, clumping them like gossamer.

 

“You love me?” That winds him.

 

Gilgamesh laughs bitterly and rough keeping himself pressed to the wall.

 

“I am sorry, so sorry, Gilgamesh.” Cor covers his face for a moment. “This is not how we should’ve talked.” His own tears have stopped and he lifts up the collar of his shirt and dries what he can off of his face.

 

“Gilgamesh, I do love you. Not because you’ve told me, but I know I have for some time. I think I was afraid, but I shouldn’t have behaved like that, or let that fear become something else.”

 

He starts approaching Gilgamesh. “You don’t have to forgive me now for my foolishness. I’m truly sorry to have hurt you like this and been so selfish.” He stops in front of Gilgamesh, even with him making himself smaller he’s still taller than Cor.

 

Gilgamesh looks at him, his eyes still wet and tears staining his face. Cor admits the truth to himself then and there, looking at that soft face. Gilgamesh is a colossal, not in his physical height, but in his very existence. He doesn’t age, and with the years passing of them being together Cor can’t help but feel the difference in what they are as people. But then, that’s it as well, because ultimately Gilgamesh is a person, he knows humanity, and he’s seen it in its many versions. His heart beats, his skin is warm, and he treats Cor in a way he never expected. Like Cor he lives with versions of himself, myths dashed with truth, but he is more than that. They are more than that.

 

Cor exhales. “I’m sorry to have thought so small.”

 

Gilgamesh watches Cor’s face through blurred stinging vision. He blinks away the tears and sees his face clearer, sees thoughts flash across his mine, sees panic shift into realization and contentment. The Immortal is flesh, blood, and bone, like Gilgamesh is. They are both human, and that’s something that’s taken him some time to remember.

“I am sorry to have ever given you reason to doubt.”

 

Cor just shakes his head no.

 

“You are my most cherished, please do not forget that.”

 

Cor laughs. “I will not.” He tentatively reaches up with both his hands to hold Gilgamesh’s face, he lets him, and Cor takes his face gently, he tips up and pulls his lips just to hover over his. “Every moment from here on after I will remind you that I have not. You are the one I can call beloved, and I will never let you forget that.” Cor kisses him, and, it’s the sweetest kiss, it makes and unmakes him all in one instant.

 

Cor presses into Gilgamesh’s chest with his, lifts and wraps his legs around his waist, pushes all of himself against him as if enough pressure can meld them into one. He braces them with all his strength, and Gilgamesh should remind him to take it easy but the kiss has turned addictive and feverish, he wants everything he can give. Each kiss is bruising and urgent and he grips at Cor’s back feeling each muscle bunch and flex to support them, Cor’s fingers dig into the underside of his thighs, his arms and legs tremble with the effort.

 

“Please.” Cor whispers.

 

Gilgamesh can only nod.

 

_________

 

The maze of Gilgamesh’s body is one that Cor already knows and is delighted to go through again and again, till he comes out the other side sated and breathless. He crawls up over him on the bed whispering a string of _‘I love you’s’_ between each and every kiss. His fingers twine into his silver locks and grip the roots till Gilgamesh gasps and presses his chest flush against Cor’s mouth.

 

Cor’s teeth are sharp, the heat from his mouth feverish, marking him all over, feeling every scar. He gives no warning and swallow’s Gilgamesh in one go making is back arch high and hips stutter. He tries to guide Cor to a reasonable pace, but he’s stubborn and bobs torturously slow. Cor looks up at him as he bobs up and flashes a wicked smile swirling his tongue on the head of Gilgamesh’s dick, then he swallows again, to the back of his throat growling and the pleasure tickles all along Gil’s spine.

 

“You’re-” He chokes as Cor meets the base of his shaft again and starts running slick finger over his rim teasing with a prod. “-horrible…” He finally breathes out and Cor pops off to laugh and kiss his hip apologetically.

 

The teasing goes on long, almost too long. Stretching and sucking, bringing Gilgamesh close to climax more than once, but stopping short, just to hear frustration break his chorus of oh’s. Cor teases him till his body tenses and trembles desperate for release.

 

“Turn over.” Cor repeats, his words take a moment to break through the silk smothering Gilgamesh’s senses. He feels Cor’s hands on his face, hears his voice softly hushing him, checking if he’s okay.

 

Gilgamesh moves to turn over and Cor gives him some space to, he can’t help the smile seeing the small shake in Cor’s legs as he braces himself over him.

 

Cor presses his chest flush against his back, moves his hair to one side kissing from the shell of his ear, along his neck down between his shoulder blades. He rests his face in the crook off his neck, and presses into him slow pulling back and then slams in pushing a cry out of Gilgamesh’s lips. He starts a brutal pace, bites into Gilgamesh’s shoulder like he’s anchoring himself, wraps his arm across his chest to pull him even closer. He holds him there, ramming his prostate insistently till Gil’s moans rise up and up till they echo and overlap. Cor tastes copper breaking Gilgamesh’s skin, he unlatches his mouth and licks quickly in an apology. He feels Gil tightening around him and is spurned by the way his body arches and the sweet moans ricocheting of the room’s walls.

 

When Gilgamesh comes it is silent, a violent shudder shaking them and the bed. Cor comes much louder, even buffered against the flesh of his shoulder it is deafening, his pace uneven and desperate till he spends himself in Gilgamesh.

 

Gilgamesh lays hazy and sated, reaching clumsily behind him to take hold of Cor’s face and bring him to curl down around him so he can kiss him. He gets mostly his bottom lip and chin, neither of them coordinated enough to kiss properly. Cor’s high is cut by his entire body screaming at him, maybe he got too excited, but he can’t bother to care. Lets what he can get of the afterglow wash over him pulling out and rolling till Gilgamesh rest mostly on top of him. There is nothing more to say, just embrace.

_________

 

Lestallum is beautiful, bustling. Even out here on the edge of it Cor can see that. Lights shine for miles, and shimmer along the water. Gray smoke plumes in the air above from the constant mining. He pushes away the thought of the meteorite finally running out.

 

“Humanity is ever resilient.” Gilgamesh says coming to stand next to him at the edge of their haven spot.

 

Cor smiles at him. “We sure are.” He walks back to their campfire and plops himself down next to it. “How much longer do you think it’ll be, till the darkness ends?”

 

Gilgamesh follows him and sits next to him. “No one can know, but I would like to spend that time with you, however long it lasts.”

 

That makes him blush and scratch at his neck. “Do you think we’ll make it out of all this?”

 

Gilgamesh’s hand comes to rest atop his. “Do not let those thoughts consume you.”

 

Cor nods and watches his face by the firelight. He’s so beautiful.

 

“We have made the most of this life, and we will continue to do so, till the Sun returns and thereafter. In every moment, as long as we are together, without fear, we will stand unyielding to the shadows.” He sounds so sure.

 

Cor’s face flames. “How do you say things like that so easily?”

 

Gilgamesh pulls him to his chest and wraps his arm around his waist. “How can I not when I love you so?”

 

Cor’s heart flutters right out of his chest, how in all of Eos did he get so lucky? “I love you too.”

 

At first, it was terrifying, facing his fears decades old reawakened by a dream.

 

At first, it was electric feeling a connection spark to life bold and new.

 

At first, it was monumental, his feelings craning till they strained beyond his understanding.

 

Then it was camaraderie, comfort, shaky but reliable.

 

Now, oh now, it is clarity and beyond what he thought he could ever deserve.

 

It chokes him sometimes, overwhelmed by the realization, but it reminds him he is happy in a world scorned by the bitter and jealous.

 

He pulls Gilgamesh down to him with both his arms and kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while. I really wanted to explore like some inbetween years unlike in the first fic, flesh them out a little more. Explore Cor's pride issues, and add some more humanity to Gilgamesh. I also really wanted to post one really long fic, but not post it intervals, just one long thing.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed~
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Find my fic tumblr here: [ scrawlingcomet ](https://scrawlingcomet.tumblr.com/)


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